THE OOLOGIST 



155 



for the eggs usually in the center of the 

 floating mass. Often the eggs were de- 

 posited on masses of floating punkin 

 stems, which were scarcely above the 

 water level. They have a close mim- 

 icry to their surroundings, but they 

 cannot escape the keen eyes of the or- 

 nithologist who is eager to add the 

 eggs of a new species to his collection. 



P. M. SiLLOWAY, 



Roodhouse, 111. 



From a Rusty Pen 



Did someone ask what had become of 

 us? Or was he rejoicing at being fav- 

 ored with our long silence? Well, we 

 are still here in the backwoods, in that 

 l)art of Arkansas we have called "Fairy 

 Land." And you would think it Fairy 

 Land too, if you could be here some 

 morning in April or May at sunrise; then 

 as the day advances to quietly seek some 

 deep ravine with its shade and birds 

 and waterfalls. To a non-lover of birds 

 and music it might be as annoying as 

 the rattle and clangor of city life is to 

 the country folk. 



The Yellow-breasted Chat is the first 

 to sound the approach of day, begin- 

 ning at about a quarter past three, 

 with a few low, indistinct notes, grad- 

 ually growing louder and fuller and 

 sweeter as daylight appears, till he has 

 awakened the whole neighborhood, 

 and the other birds chime in, one by 

 one, till finally you cannot distinguish 

 one from a-iother; a confused sea of 

 warbles as constant as the sound of the 

 waves for about two hours, then gi'ad- 

 ually subsides into the ravines. The 

 lonesome' note of the Wood Pewee is 

 second on the roll. Then comes the 

 troubled voice of the Summer Tanager 

 and the Wood Robin's metallic song. 

 Just as the sun is peeping above the 

 hilltops the Carolina Wren mounts a 

 brush pile with his merry mimicry and 

 whistles out "Earl Pleas-— Earl Pleas— 



A. Mowbray Semple. 



get i/p. get up, get up — sweeter, siveeter, 

 sweeter.'' and hies away, scolding, to be 

 lost among the merrymakers. 



Thus we are living among the feath- 

 ei'ed trihe, 45 mi'es from ihn railroad, 

 3i miles from town, on the northern 

 slope of the mountain, with never-fail- 

 ing springs as a water supply and the 

 most beautiful landscapes to keep us 

 company. From our mountain one 

 cau'take a bird's-eye view of the town 

 of Clinton and the surrounding country 

 for 40 miles. 



Flowers? Yes, hundreds of acres of 

 them, of the most gorgeous hues, and 

 ferns too that would outdo any garden 

 or greenhouse. No wonder this a laud 

 of birds. Although old this is a new 

 country, and they are called neighbors 

 who live three or four miles away. 



When the romantic part of our lives 

 changed lo'that "perfect state," mar- 

 riage, ■we settled down on a piece of 

 the very wildest for a homestead and 

 have spent four yeai'S iu trying to sub- 



